Relax
by f22.rapid.ascent
Summary: Is rated for brief re-statements of child molestation what's said here was said on the show What could've happened after Grissom passed out on Brass' couch after the pedophile was arrested in season 7 "Burn Out"
1. Chapter 1

If there was ever a case that could squeeze an ounce of sympathy out of Grissom, it involved a missing child.

If there was ever a case that could really push Grissom's buttons, it involved a dead child.

If there was ever a case that could piss Grissom off, it involved a dead child, and a pedophile to blame.

If there was ever a case that could do all of the above, it involved a missing child, a dead child, and a lying bastard of a pedophile named Carl Fischer to blame.

After spending nearly 36 hours with a convicted child molester, discussing the likes and dislikes of other predators, Grissom couldn't think where to put his newly learned information regarding pedophiles… _he likes…toddlers. ...Some of their pleasure derives from physical violence. They like to molest, then beat, and sometimes kill their victims. _

For the first time, Grissom had to go eye to eye, and attempt to understand what a pedophile would do. To put himself in the shoes of a child molester… _Okay Carl… what would you do if you were going to take those boys? _

Carl Fischer's bleak and frankly horrifying response sent shivers beyond shivers up Grissom's spine, sending another sharp spike into the already strong migraine.

…_It's a game of seduction. _

_Once you know what they like, you make contact. You start slowly, play it cool. Especially with boys. It's about building trust…_

They found Lucas Hanson dead at a golf course. Carl had simply stated, _In my opinion, if someone killed one boy, he killed them both._ After they found Jason Crowley, the missing boy, on a bus to Texas, Grissom ended up passed out on Brass' leather couch.

Sleep didn't come, nightmares did. This always happened after a case managed to bite its way under his skin, but this time it prodded, poked and bit as if fire ants were crawling on his bones. His nightmares were filled with the face of Carl, giving the boys a "taste" of whiskey, then thinking it would be to just…_indulge_…one last time…

He didn't hear a knock at the door, or the footsteps quietly making their way to him. He knew it was Sara when her peach scented shampoo and her long fingers brushed through his soft curls.

"Gil?"

"Hm?"

"Brass told me you were in here. Can you..."

He couldn't hear her talking over the piercing ringing in his ears, caused by the sharp noises in the lab hall. Light sent his head spinning, which triggered nausea. Nausea made the sounds worse, which sent his head spinning downward in a vicious spiral.

She must've figured out that he wasn't listening, or couldn't listen, because she finally kissed his forehead, and left. He stayed in Brass' office until finally a small amount of rest found him.

He had retreated to Brass' office around 2:30 in the afternoon; it was now just past 5. Just after opening his eyes, thankful the few lights filtering in through the blinds didn't make him feel as if he was on some kind of hallucinogen, he carefully stood. Wobbling to the door, he reached in for his keys and blindly made it to his car. Plopping down inside, he found a yellow sticky note stuck to the steering wheel.

_Bring it home. -me._

That's all that needed to be said. She always knew when a case prodded a little, but this was way beyond prodding. Slowly easing out of the parking lot, he made his way home to Sara.

Sara heard the garage door open, and jarred fully awake when the door unlatched. Through the door walked in a red-eye, mussed hair, wrinkled clothes, migraine-ill Gil Grissom.Words didn't need to be said. He looked to her, sighed, and toed off his shoes. Her hand entwined with his, and worried brown eyes met empty, confused blue orbs. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, knowing he always felt content when they were so close.

Several minutes passed like that before the silence was broken by Grissom's muffled and broken voice. "I just don't understand people like this, Sara."

Pulling back, keeping her arms around his waist, she didn't speak. She just waited for just a few of those emotions Grissom was giving sail to to come pouring out.

"How… when… how does a person… cross a line… where… when… kids… innocence…is a turn on? When… _that_…is what gets 'em off?"

Letting out a deep, strangled sigh, Sara noticed the watery look to his eyes, along with a man searching for the right words to express the frustration also there. "Come with me Gil, please?"

Nodding in agreement, he followed Sara to their bedroom. She had only one dim light on in the corner, all the blinds retracted, and, as is her nature, something very special in mind for the cure of the remaining migraine.

"I want to help you relax, Gil. Help you to take your mind off the last 48 hours. Okay?"

After his brief nod, she continued, "First, let's get rid of those clothes you've had on for two days." Helping him ease out of his black polo shirt, she gestured for him to sit down on the bed to slip off his pants & socks, he looked over to her sitting next to him, and waited. "Good. Lie down, on your stomach for me."

He crawled slowly into place, initially hiding his entire face on his pillow, then turning to his right to see Sara crawling over to him. Leaning over his back just slightly, she gently placed a kiss at the base of his neck, just where those amazingly soft curls ended, and spoke, "I don't want you to think about anything right now, Gil. No work, no missing kids, no death…nothing." She waited a moment, repeated the kiss, then continued, "Ready?"

"Mm," was all he could mutter.

She started running her hands over his scalp, as if she were washing his hair. Feeling this, his eyes drifted contentedly shut. She occasionally used her nails to rake over his skin, tugging his hair gently, using circular motions with her fingertips, causing Grissom to let out a relaxed sigh of appreciation. Continuing downward, she used her thumbs to work the knot at the base of his neck, trying to release the tension she knew had gathered in the bud there. His breathing had slowed, and the tense muscles in his back finally started to ease.__

Click. Opening an eye, he wondered what she was doing, when a smooth and gentle scent of peppermint flowed through his nostrils. He knew the aroma of peppermint was supposed to help migraines, but he'd never tried it. He felt her click the bottle back shut, and the cool liquid made contact with his shoulders. Her hands were working some kind of magic on his back; somehow what he had put up with for the last 48 hours didn't wrack his mind, he just savored the sensation of her hands. He started to drift away into some kind of happy place, where only those amazing hands existed.

"Gil?"

"Hm?"

"You asleep yet?

"Eh...yeahhhkinda...mmm..."

_Chuckle_, "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"M'kay."

When Grissom woke up, he was disoriented. It was night time out, and the wall clock said 5:27am. In his 27 years as a criminalist, he hadn't missed a single day of work until now.

Panic almost set in, when the faint scent of coffee came from the kitchen. Carefully rising, he stumbled his way to the door and padded down the hall to see Sara standing in his shirt, her jeans, rinsing out a coffee mug.

"Sara, why didn't you wake me up before now?"

"Ah – ah, you go ahead and listen to that death threat of a voicemail from Catherine on your phone. To sum it up, if she sees you within 50 feet of the lab before Monday morning, she'd, well…"

Showing a hint of a grin, he made his way over to Sara and wrapped her in a hug, and ran his hand around her head, skimming his fingers through her silky hair.

Speaking very softly in her ear, "Thank you for last night, Sara. Easy to say, that's the worst migraine I've ever had….and by far the best _ending_ to a migraine I've ever had."

She let out a laugh and toyed with the curls at the base of his neck, "Why you're very welcome. Anything for you, m'dear. After a few moments, she continued very softly, "If you need to talk...about the case...Brass filled me in a little bit this morning...about the pedophile..."

Shaking his head back and forth briefly, he spoke, "Not now, Sara. I need something small to eat, and then go back to sleep. And I want you to come with me."

Smirking, she kissed his cheek, and said, "So what would you like...?"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Ookkay…for those of you who asked for a sequel, here ya go. It's not as good as the first one, because I honestly had no intention of writing this. Is rated for very brief re-statements of child molestation in season 7 "Burn Out".

…_so what would you like?_

After making a cheese omelet, Sara sent Grissom to a quick shower, and waited for him to come back to bed. Sitting in bed flipping through a magazine, she thought back to what Brass had told her Grissom had put up with in interrogation with the pedophile.

_He was…sick…Sara. Just no other way to explain it. Grissom was in bad shape through the entire investigation. I tried giving him a break but Carl wouldn't talk to me. I don't know the full extent of what went on, but I did hear one response after Gil told him Lucas was dead, "If he killed one boy, he killed the other." What honestly got me was Grissom attempted to put himself in the shoes of a pedophile. I couldn't believe he was doing that cause I know the guy, and believe me, he could've killed that asshole…_

Her thoughts ended when Grissom walked through the door, in his usual night attire; boxers and a t-shirt. Clicking out the lamp on his side of the bed, sitting up, he looked over to Sara, who had a questioning and still worried look to her face.

"Gil?"  
"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't need to talk about…the case?"

Breathing out a sigh of air, both relief and frustration swept back over him. He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes just a little, along with rubbing his index finger over the top of his thumb; a nervous habit you could say.

Sara knew that look. He was a man lost, and searching for the right words.

"No…maybe…I just…I don't know, Sara. I will maybe, just…not now. I can't now…"

Touching his shoulder lightly, she knew he wanted to continue, but couldn't, "It's okay. Just…if you need to talk, I'm here. Know that, okay?"

Looking to her, the tiredness in his blue eyes shot rays of sadness through hers. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. Offering a comforting smile, she reached over, set her magazine on the night stand and clicked off the lamp. Grissom had already gotten under the covers, Sara followed. He spooned up to her back, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace.

A few hours later, Grissom woke up; more like jarred awake in a cold sweat. The dream still vivid in mind, he remembered it well. _I was the pedophile. I was Carl Fischer. Taking the shirt off of a 9-year-old boy, dreaming and fantasizing about…touching…_

Sara was curled up sleeping contentedly on her pillow, her right arm curled under the pillow, facing him. Not wanting to wake her, or worse yet, let her see him in his current condition, he slowly crept away from bed, and made his way to the kitchen. Out of lack for anything else to do, he began to make coffee.

Carl's face wouldn't leave his mind. His empty eyes boring holes at whatever he looked at. He talked so casually about molesting children, as if they were two friends discussing their love for the activity. _Toddlers… rape…molest…pleasure…violence…_

Staring blindly into his coffee cup, Sara's hand on his shoulder made him jump and come back to reality. Looking up to her, he saw his Sara with a determined look, along with sadness and, as usual for the past few days, worry.

"Gil, you need to let it out."

"I can't Sara."

"Yes, you can. You'll feel better."

"I can't…say… what he said…details…"

"I don't want details, Gil, you just…" gesturing with her hands, she struggled for words herself, "Let out some of the steam. Talk about the memory, that way you can begin to let go."

He let out a long breath, stood to go and sit on the couch, and spoke, "Okay. Can you… just listen? Not say anything?"

Sitting down next to him, simply nodding, she waited for him to continue.

"I just…don't…eh…" Sara knew that look. She had seen it many times, especially in the last few hours.

He continued, "How does a man cross that line, Sara? When raping a 9-year-old boy turns them on?" Staring into the floor below, he kept speaking; Sara just sat there and listened.

"I know you said that Brass told you a little, but…he wasn't there for part of it. He wasn't there when I showed him the pictures of other pedophiles. After he gave me those pictures, I half expected him to stay, but he didn't. Carl pointed out, so… _casually_ what some of the guys liked & didn't like. _Toddlers…_ Sara, he said one guy liked to prey on toddlers. Two & three year olds, I just…don't get it. He made it sound as if _I _was his friend and we were discussing what… kind of ass we like to get."

Hearing this from Grissom, she knew why he had a migraine. _Toddlers? Damn…_

For the next 30 minutes or so, Grissom told Sara everything he needed to say. He didn't give details, he let out the emotions that burdened him for the last few days and let Sara help carry the load with him.

"Cases with kids are the ones I can't stand, Sara. I know I seem like a robot with just about any other case, but not…not kids…."

"I know, Gil, I've known that for years."

Giving Sara a questioning look, she continued, "I remember a few cases that got to you. Remember the Anderson case? When you found the baby on a golf course by a statue? I'd never seen you like that before, and that's when I knew what kind of cases found the heart in you."

Smirking just slightly, he took her hand in his. Sliding over closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, curled up next to him. They stayed like that for several long minutes, before Grissom had to allow a grin and look up at Sara, whose stomach was growling.

"My turn, m'dear. What would you like…"

_fin_

A/N #2: I won't be writing a sequel to this one, as I wouldn't know where to take it. But…read & review anyway, please:)


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